


Forever

by HelloTragic



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-05-19 00:29:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14863208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelloTragic/pseuds/HelloTragic
Summary: "When someone you love dies, and you're not expecting it, you don't lose her all at once; you lose her in pieces over a long time — the way the mail stops coming, and her scent fades from the pillows and even from the clothes in her closet and drawers."—John Irving, A Prayer for Owen MeanyHow do you compete with a ghost, when the ghost always wins?





	1. Lost

**Author's Note:**

> I've been feeling pretty angsty IRL so I decided to channel some of that into something else.

 

 

The apartment looked different. Yes, her things were sitting in boxes in her beat up yellow bug down the street, but there was something else off aside from her missing items.

 

The fact that nothing really looked that different.

 

Five months of living there, and she’d hardly made an impact. Four years of being together and it still hadn’t been enough. She’d never noticed before how little she’d belonged. Not until David had slipped up and told her about _her_. Not until she realized that she’d been competing with a ghost all that time.

 

She heard the key turning in the lock, and the overwhelming feel of dread and regret overtook her. Her stomach twisted and she had to swallow back the bile in her throat.

 

 _Click_ _._

 

She waited, as he flitted about their apartment, putting away groceries in the kitchen, setting his wallet and phone on the nightstand by his side of their bed. Of _his_ bed now. He did everything just as he normally did when he got home from work, as Emma sat on the couch waiting. Twenty minutes and he hadn’t noticed anything off, anything missing. Just another sign, another piece of proof that she was doing the right thing in leaving. She didn’t belong there anymore. She never had.

 

 **5 months earlier** **:**

 

There was nothing more exhausting than moving. Emma hadn’t brought many items with her - after all, Killian already had all of the major items, and as nice and large as his apartment was, there was still no reason for two of everything.

 

 _Their_ apartment.

 

Killian had corrected her the night before when she was trying to decide if she should bring her television or not. It was newer and larger than the one Killian had, but he’d insisted that his was fine. They’d argued briefly, but Killian had pointed out that a smaller tv was less intrusive, and much less likely to distract them. There had been some eyebrow wiggling as he said it, innuendo implied. He’d even proved it to her by making love to her on the couch that was about to be theirs.

 

“See, Swan? It’s better this way. All of my attention is on you.”

 

She’d laughed and the television debate had been settled with them listing hers  for sale online. The same went for some random artwork that didn’t match the decor in his apartment. Her eclectic style was definitely a stark contrast to his earthy furnishings. The bulk of his color scheme was dark brown with a few pieces of red and black mixed in.

 

Yet, Emma loved it. As dark as it may have been with aged antique wooden tables and bookshelves and dark leather sofas, it was somehow homey and inviting. Moving day came and went. Killian had cleaned out some drawers for her, as well as half of his closet. A couple of her old photo frames adorned the dresser and some random end tables. Everything was perfect.

 

Killian came home everyday, and depending on her schedule at the Boston PD, they’d take turns trading off the role of chef. Sometimes he’d have a late meeting with an investor or a buyer, someone wanting to have their name associated with Jones Brothers’ Designs. Killian was also so animated when he spoke of his newest boat design, and Emma ate up every moment of his happiness.

 

His life hadn’t been easy, and even though he still had a hard time discussing his childhood, she’d pieced together enough. His father had left him and his brother when they were children. They’d bounced around in foster homes until they were both old enough to join the navy, serving proudly together. Then there had been an accident, something had gone wrong during a training exercise, and Liam had lost his life. Lost and aimless, Killian had drunk himself into a stupor most nights until something had stopped him. She wasn’t quite sure what had been the spark, but he’d been overwhelmed by the burning desire to start his own business designing boats. He’d taken the money from Liam’s death benefits and funneled them all into his business, and somehow, he’d made it a thriving success.

 

It had been part of what had attracted him to her. The eagerness, the desire to make something of himself. Emma had been through her fair share of losers. Neal, who had tried to frame her for the theft of some stolen watches. Walsh, who’d cheated on her. The one night stand that had stolen her phone and wallet out of her purse when she’d gone to the bathroom afterwards. When David had suggested a blind date to her, she’d rolled her eyes, but Mary Margaret had insisted.

 

_“He lives in the building. He’s so handsome, Emma, and such a gentleman....”_

 

_“...I think you two have a lot in common. Just give him a chance.”_

 

Finally, Emma had let her best friend break her down, and agreed to go on **_one_ ** date with the guy. Worst case scenario, she got a free meal out of the deal, best case, she got laid and went her own way after. Then she caught sight of him and all plans of dodging him after dinner had gone out the window. He was gorgeous. His inky black hair fell over his forehead highlighting the sapphire hue of blue in his eyes. Just the sight of him had sent a shiver up her spine, and then he’d spoken and she was gone.

 

Surprisingly, the dinner conversation had been the most engaging interaction she’d had with a man in years. And Mary Margaret had been right about them having things in common; their shared foster home situation had been revealed on the fourth date. On the fifth date, she’d told him about Neal and Walsh. As it turned out, he’d had a woman that had left him and broken his heart as well.

 

Four years later, and they’d finally moved in together. Emma hadn’t minded the slow pace at first. She’d been burned more than once and was skittish, and they’d agreed to take things as slowly as she needed. Around year three though, she’d been ready for more, much more. As much as she hinted, if took a full year before he’d finally broached the idea of moving in together.

 

And that’s why, when she’d been putting away his laundry on the first Saturday after she’d moved in and she found a small black box, she’d been over the moon. It had been nestled away at the back of his sock drawer. Inside had sat a solitary diamond resting on a silver band with two small words inscribed in cursive on the inside. _A perfect fit_. And when she’d heard his keys in the lock, she’s quickly removed the ring from her finger and shoved the ring box back under all of his socks in the drawer.

 

Five months. That’s how long she’d waited. Every dinner out had ended in disappointment. Every date-night in, the same. Her birthday. Christmas. They all came and went without a proposal, and Emma couldn’t take it anymore.

 

Waiting until Killian had left to grab them some food, Emma snuck off to David and Mary Margaret’s apartment six doors down from Killian. Both of them were home, but David was elbow deep in fixing the bathroom sink so she settled for just talking to Mary Margaret. She explained how she’d found the ring months before and that Killian still hadn’t proposed, not even close.

 

“It had an inscription too. **_Go deo_ **.”

 

Mary Margaret scowled. “Well that’s not very poetic. What does it even mean?”

 

“Well I looked it up, and I think it means ‘Forever’ in Irish gaelic.”

 

“Oh my God, Emma. That’s wonderful!” The awestruck look soon faded from her face though. “But why do you think he hasn’t asked yet?”

 

Emma explained that she hadn’t a clue as to what he was waiting for. She’d been dropping hints left and right, but still nothing. And that’s when David appeared, shattering Emma’s world.

 

“Do I even want to know what you ladies are talking about?” he asked.

 

He kissed his girlfriend on the cheek and went to grab a beer out of the fridge.

 

“Oh, not much. Just that Emma found a huge engagement ring in Killian’s dresser.”

 

Mary Margaret had meant for it to be a coy statement, baiting David, but when he froze, Emma knew something was wrong.  
  
“I can’t believe he still has it.” It was almost a whisper, and surely not meant for Emma’s ears.

 

“Still has what?”

 

Emma tilted her head, watching his reaction. He tried to change the conversation, but his girlfriend wouldn’t allow it.

 

“David, what does he still have?”

 

He took a deep breath, cursing himself as he spilled the whole story. Killian had been engaged before, to a woman names Milah. They’d only been dating a month before he’d exclaimed to David that she was the one, producing a ring bigger than the Titanic iceberg. He’d proposed right away, unwilling to wait. He’d planned a whole night, and she’d said yes. But before they could actually go through with a wedding, she’d passed away and Killian had been devastated.

 

Night after night he drank himself to sleep and he’d kept the apartment like a shrine to her. Even the television that often went on the fritz because they’d bought it together years before. Everything that he’d talked Emma out of changing had been things that had once belonged to Milah. David even admitted he’d never expected Killian to become interested in Emma. He’d figured they’d have a one night stand and maybe it would help ease Killian back into the dating world.

 

Emma was wrecked.

 

**Present:**

 

She couldn’t put it off any longer. It wasn’t until she stood and started wringing her hands together that he seemed to notice something was off with her.

 

“Swan, what’s wrong?”

 

Killian approached her and tried to grab her hand, but she pulled back, knowing that if she wanted to remain strong, she couldn’t allow him to comfort her. She avoided looking at him, but based on the way he tensed up, she knew she’d hurt him.

 

“Killian, we-,” she paused, the words catching in her throat. “I can’t-”

 

“Can’t what, Emma?”

 

She didn’t even know how to begin. She’d tried to formulate a plan for the better part of the day, tried to find the words, but she had nothing. Nothing but her own pain.

 

“I found the ring.”

 

He didn’t say anything.

 

“I found it months ago, and I thought-” her voice cracked.

 

“You thought it was for you,” he finished.

 

She could only nod.

 

“Emma.”

 

“I can’t do this Killian. I can’t compete with a ghost.”

 

They fought. They fought for what felt like hours, Emma finally letting everything out. How nothing in the apartment was hers. How he hadn’t even noticed her things were missing. How easily she lifted out of his life. He’d told her she was being ridiculous, but she held her own, and by the end they were both emotionally spent.

 

The last thing she said to him was that she deserved more. She couldn’t live her life knowing she was second best. She deserved to be loved by someone the way Killian loved Milah. When she set her key on the table and turned to leave, he didn’t even try to stop her, and she waited until she was in her car to fall apart. Yet still he hadn’t come to find her.

 

They were over.

 

Emma drove all night. There was no plan for where she was going or what she was doing. She’d already given her resignation at work, said her goodbyes to the couple down the hall. There was nothing left holding her to Boston.

 

It was three am when her tire blew out in a desolate highway just outside of Storybrooke, Maine. She’d had to walk almost four miles into town. Cell phone service had been lacking for the past hour and she hadn’t exacting been great about keeping up with the bug’s maintenance, included replacing the spare tire.

 

The town was small, and everything appeared to be laid out across one street. She knew that finding a repair shop at that hour was out of the question, but she was at least hoping for an all-night diner or a motel. Her legs ached as she walked down main street, passing an old broken clock tower and a pawn shop that seemed to specialize in flea market finds.

 

Finally, she managed to stumble upon a place called Granny’s. It was a small bed and breakfast, but at that point, Emma was so tired that it could have been a bus stop bench and she’d have been happy. The woman behind the counter blew a bubble of chewing gum the size of her face while Emma attempted to get a room. There was very little conversation as she was handed an old ornate skeleton key.

 

She’d passed out as soon as her head it the pillow, not even bothering to take off her red leather jacket.

 

The next morning, the first thing she did was head down to the mechanic shop she’d passed on the way into town. The guy behind the counter said he’d have her car towed into town right away, and took off. As she waited, she went back to Granny’s to grab some breakfast. The diner attached was quaint in a way Emma had only seen in movies. The old woman serving up plates seemed to know everyone and their orders before they even had time to sit down.

 

It was such a far cry from Boston and the never ending detective work there. And when she spied the help wanted ad for the local sheriff's office, she decided that Storybrooke, Maine, seemed like as good a place to settle down as any.

 

She’d been there for two months when the current Sheriff, a large man with aching joints felt it was time for him to retire. With his support, Emma ran unopposed, picking up the badge he’d left behind.

 

Storybrooke was calm, but not completely devoid of crime. There were the odd misdemeanors, bored kids tagging buildings, items stolen from unlocked cars, but very rarely did anything of substance happen. And when it did, Emma found her one and only deputy lacking in needed skills.

 

So when a local woman named Katherine was reported as missing by her husband, and her car was found crashed in a ditch at the town line, Emma was on her own. Except she wasn’t. Unfortunately, the car came to rest on the border between her town and a place called Glowerhaven, one jurisdiction over.

 

The other town’s Sheriff had been sweet, and despite Emma’s reluctance to give him a chance, she found him charming in a way. He wasn’t hard on the eyes either, and when they’d finally found Katherine two days later wandering around the woods confused but safe, he asked her out. When she refused, he sent her flowers. When she’d refused again, he sent her a junior cadet badge, the same one they passed out to elementary school kids, Emma caved.

 

Emma felt guilty. Graham was great, the perfect boyfriend, yet still she often found herself comparing him to Killian. That he might want her back. It wasn’t fair, given the way she’d left things with Killian. She hadn’t even changed her cell phone number, slightly hoping that at some point Killian might call and apologize. Finally, she sat Graham down to have a heart to heart, to let him down easy. She didn’t want him to end up feeling the same way she had, but he surprised her, telling her that broken hearts take time to mend, and that he’d wait as long as she needed as long as she was just willing to try. She’d been reluctant, but he’d made a good point, and in time, she genuinely came to care for him. She might have even loved him, but the idea of love was nothing but terrifying but she realised that the only way for her to get over Killian was to fully commit herself to Graham.

 

And went Graham proposed on their one year anniversary, Emma’s first instinct had been to run, but as she looked into his eyes, she saw nothing but his affection for her. Taking a deep breath, Emma took the plunge and said yes. They moved in together shortly after, choosing to find a house just outside of Storybrooke, and about halfway between their offices. They cooked dinner together, watched movies, even took the occasional hike.

 

Planning the wedding had been much more relaxing that she’d expected it to be. Graham had told her that he just wanted her to be happy, be it a small intimate gathering or a full blown ceremony. Emma had kept in touch with Mary Margaret, even asking her to be her maid of honor, and after weeks of pestering her, Mary Margaret had finally given in to Emma’s desire for a small wedding in and old barn.

 

David and Mary Margaret had arrived two days before the wedding, insisting that the couple-to-be needed one last hoorah each before tying the knot. Emma and the two friends she’d managed to make went along with Mary Margaret to a small day spa in town followed by a trip to the White Rabbit, the lone bar in town. The guys group had gone into Glowerhaven for their night of debauchery.

 

Given Mary Margaret’s proclivity to pass out after one apple martini, the girls had called it a night early, something Emma had been grateful for. The next morning, all four women readied themselves for Emma’s wedding. Emma’s dress was white as snow, and Ruby and Mary Margaret’s dresses were as red as blood. It was Emma’s one and only concession to her best friend’s fairytale wedding idealization.

 

The barn had been lined with flowers, fairy lights, and ribbons. It was perfect.

 

And then it wasn’t.

 

Emma had been pacing, waiting for Graham who was already twenty minutes late. David and the other men hadn’t seen him since the night before. There had been a drunk and disorderly call and Graham had left his bachelor party early to tend to it, and that was the last anyone had seen of him. All calls to his phone had gone off to voicemail. It wasn’t like him.

 

Then blue lights appeared, and the face of the deputy exiting the car told her everything she needed to know.

 

There had been an accident. Graham had run off the road the night before, likely trying to swerve and avoid hitting a deer. The stretch of road he’d been driving down was fairly isolated, and it wasn’t until they went looking for him that they found his car. And his body.

 

Emma had refused to believe it, insisting that the deputy take her to see first hand. He’d pleaded with her not to look, but Emma was nothing if not stubborn. She immediately wished she’d heeded the deputies warning though. Her last memory of Graham should have been something better, of them curled up in bed together. Not of him black and blue.

 

David had tried to take her home, saying that she needed rest, but she couldn’t go back to their shared home. She couldn’t go there knowing that he’d never come home, so instead, Mary Margaret went and grabbed her two bags worth of clothes, and packed them in the back of David's truck. He drove back alone, and Mary Margaret drove Emma’s bug, with Emma in the passenger seat, completely silent, almost comatose.

 

She hadn’t even noticed when they pulled up to their building, _her_ old building. The walk up to the third floor was a blur as her friends guided her to their apartment, still draped in her wedding gown. And when a door opened and two giggly blondes came spilling out, it hadn’t even crossed her mind which apartment they were exiting from, not until she saw him step out to kiss them both goodbye.

 

“Well, well,” he slurred out. “What do we have here?”

 

“Killian,” David tried to warn, but it fell on deaf ears.

 

“Running away again, Swan?” His eyes lingered on her dress. “Seems to be a pattern with you.”

 

He swiped his thumb across his lower lip and waved one last goodbye to the girls.

 

With a loud slap to the face, and tears in her eyes, Emma walked away.

 

It was the last straw. For the first time ever, Emma found herself hating Killian Jones.

 

She should have known better. Orphans like her didn’t get happy endings. They didn’t get forever.


	2. 2

She’d disappeared from his life in an instant. He couldn’t even remember everything they had argued about. Something about ghosts and competitions. In that moment, though, all he had been able to focus on was his anger. And then the door had clicked behind her and his entire world had fallen off kilter again.

 

When he’d lost Milah, he’d lost the will to live. Numbness had taken over and he had simply stopped being able to feel. Food had tasted bitter. Things had smelled less sweet. Nothing had felt right, and he honestly hadn’t wanted it to. He had spent months after her death just mourning, wondering why it hadn’t been him. And then the true self loathing had kicked in. His reckless behavior had taken over. There had been bar fights, women whose names he’d never learned before bedding them.

 

So many women.

 

His friends had been beside themselves, not understanding what he’d gone through. How could they, when they still had each other and had never suffered the loss of a soulmate? The loss of the ‘loves of their lives’. They had done what they could, trying to reign in his destructive tendencies, setting him up with prim and proper ladies. By the time he had finished, though, the ladies had been nothing more than pretty little distractions to get him through another night, left with nothing more than a thank you and soiled sheets for their efforts. 

 

Killian had just been biding his time, practically waiting for it to all be over. His life was dragging on with no meaning. And then David had told him that he had one last woman for him to meet. Killian had been less than optimistic. When David had used the words ‘last time, I promise’ he’d been sure that it was just a desperate ploy, but then David had added that if by the end Killian found that he still only wanted to sleep with her and discard her, he’d give up on the set ups for good. Not that Killian had minded the failed attempts - they had resulted in sex, after all - but it was always the endless chit-chat over dinner that got him.

 

He’d relented though, and when the door had opened to reveal a blonde goddess, he’d been lost to her almost instantly. Emma Swan standing in David’s apartment had given him his first true breath of air in ages. And for the first time in a long time, he’d enjoyed dinner. She had fire and spunk, but she also held within her depths a sense of loss that led to an abundance of compassion. After the meal, Killian had walked her to her car, letting her go with nothing more than a brush of his lips across her knuckles.

 

She was different, worth something more than an easy bedding, They’d gone on more dates, and each one had revealed something new about her, and he’d found that they had more in common than he’d ever expected. Kindred spirits. That’s what Liam would have called it. His brother would have loved her, more than he would have Milah, even.

 

And then it had grown. He hadn’t been sure what he’d expected from his relationship with Emma, but he’d certainly never expected to fall in love with her, and the thought had terrified him. Milah had been the love of his life, he’d been sure of it, and meeting Emma felt like a betrayal. Like he’d buried the memory of her and found something better with someone else. Without realizing it, he’d started pushing Emma away, slowing down the progression of whatever was forming between them. The guilt had started eating away at his core, and he’d strongly considered breaking things off with Emma all together on more than one occasion, but he’d been weak. Emma had already become a part of him and he hadn’t been able to  bear the thought of letting her go.

 

Slowly, though, she’d made her way past his walls, and although he’d used her own hard past as an excuse to keep her at arm’s length, after a heavy amount of hinting on her part, he’d decided not to put off moving in together any longer. But then they’d begun discussing furniture, and once more it hit him that someone else would be moving into the apartment that he’d shared with Milah, rearranging things that had been purposeful left in her memory. Some discussions had been easier than others, like the television debate, but some were more difficult, and despite his best efforts to distract her, Emma had helda little harder to the smaller things. They’d had a screaming match about an alarm clock, something that he’d known even at the time was stupid. That he’d been wrong. But Milah had bought it for him when he’d opened his business, a necessity given that he actually had to be up and at the office each morning. The damned thing barely worked anymore, only sounding off as a low static blur in the mornings that he often slept through, but he hadn’t been able to part with it.

 

Then, after finally unloading the last box, everything had shifted. Emma had become more relaxed, smiled more. It had been perfect. And then, all of a sudden, it hadn’t been.

 

The fight had gone by in a whirl, and it hadn’t been until she’d pointed out that he hadn’t noticed that any of her stuff was missing that he knew he’d made a grave mistake. He’d been so preoccupied with keeping Milah’s memory alive that he’d failed to make any new ones with Emma. He’d failed to make a life with Emma, and all he’d been left with at the end was the anger of being abandoned again.

 

* * *

 

 

Thirty minutes. He’d had a whole thirty minutes to himself after Emma had stormed out before there had been a knock on the door. He’d been certain for a moment that Emma had finally come to her senses, that he’d called her bluff, but when the door had swung open, he’d been greeted by the wrong blonde. 

David had known that Emma was leaving and hadn’t so much as given him a hint or warning, leaving a strong sense of betrayal behind in her absence. They’d fought then too, harder than he had with Emma. Emma had found the ring and David had stepped out of line telling her about Milah. But David hadn’t told her the whole story, just enough to make him look like a villain. He was surprised that no one had called the police on them based on the noise they  caused. And then, with one swift blow, the conversation had ended, as had his friendship with David.

That night he’d iced his hand and numbed his heart with a bottle of rum.

First had come the drunkenness. Then had come the women. He’d vowed never to give his heart to anyone else again, not when everyone he loved left him. Eventually he’d gotten sloppy, bringing back a woman to his apartment. When he’d woken the next morning, his placed had been ransacked. She’d taken everything she’d been able to find of value while he’d slept off the rum, including the ring.

Everything had been tainted, and he hadn’t been able to stand to look at any of it anymore. Letting his anger get the best of him, Killian had started throwing things around the apartment. Plates had been shattered, furniture shredded, paintings ripped from their hangers. He’d  chucked it all out, ready for a fresh start. The apartment had been emptied, and for the first time in years he’d felt like he could breath.

But then something shiny had caught his eye on the floor of his room, just next to where the bed had used to be. He’d bent over and picked it up, letting the small charm twist between his fingers. He’d let the light reflect off of the emblem in the middle, two wings in flight. A swan.

And then he’d broken down, and for the first time since their fight, he’d wept.  _ He was all alone _ . He’d ruined everything. People didn’t leave him, he pushed them all away.

He wasn’t sure how long he knelt on the floor, clutching the charm in his hand, but the tears had continued to come, even after Mary Margaret’s arms had found their way around him. They’d stayed like that, in silence, and he had been grateful, for he hadn’t had any words to express the pain he’d been in.

When he had finished, she’d only whispered three words in his ear. 

“Go get her.”

It was all he’d needed.

 

* * *

 

 

While Killian hadn’t spoken to David fourteen months, Mary Margaret had still come over once a week to check on him, and to bring him food. He’d been a mess, but he hadn’t cared at the time. She’d simply gently dropped hints about Emma’s life. It was how he’d learned that she was the sheriff in a small town in Maine. At some point she’d started dating again, but he was nearly positive it was something Mary had said just to make him jealous. Emma Swan didn’t open up easily to people, she didn’t trust people. There was no way she would have actually moved on that quickly.

Storybrooke wasn’t hard to find, and he pulled into town around five in the evening. He’d planned on leaving right away, but his friend had suggested that he clean himself up a bit. And then there had been the matter of finding another piece of jewelry to present to her in bended knee. Mary Margaret had deemed him worthing of winning Emma’s heart back, and Killian was beside himself with nerves.

The town itself was quaint, and he could understand why Emma liked it there. It was a tight knit community where everyone was friendly. Something that she would have missed as an orphan. Something she would have dreamed of. Even the house that she lived in looked so perfectly Emma from the outside. There was a white picket fence surrounding an old victorian mansion. 

He had to collect himself after passing through the gate, not quite ready to face Emma just yet. The idea of asking her to give everything up for him gave him pause. He wasn’t actually sure what her answer would be. Would she even open the door for him, or just slam it back in his face? More than once, he had to talk himself out of turning around with his tail tucked between his legs.

Finally, he found the strength to knock on the door, and as the seconds passed by, giving way to minutes, his confidence faltered. He knocked again, louder that time, yet still she didn’t answer. The sunlight began to dwindle and when he stepped back, he notice that not a single light was on inside the house.

Unsure of what to do next, Killian made his way back to a small inn he had passed on his way into town. In a perfect world, he’d find Emma and they’d make up and he’d stay the night with her. He knew though that it would only be reasonable to have a back up plan in case he couldn’t find her, or in case she needed time to think. He wasn’t under the illusion that he’d been in the right, and he knew that he’d need to grovel. Even if she forgave him, he’d spend forever groveling at her feet.

He pulled his truck into the small parking lot just in front of the inn and took a moment to really look around. There was a light scent of salt water drifting through the town. He wondered if the scent ever reminded Emma of him as she was out at night doing a patrol. He wondered if she even thought of him at all anymore, or if she had pushed the memory of him back into the back of her mind along with all of the bad memories from her childhood. 

He’d just about been ready to turn and go into the inn when he heard clapping and cheers coming from the distance. Taking a few steps toward the main square, he caught a flash of golden blonde hair twirling around and his heart clenched. There, in the center of the city, was his Swan, being swung around in the arms of another man. A ring newly adorning her finger. She looked so happy, and his world once again fell apart.

He left, driving through the night to get back to Boston, but when he arrived, it was to a still empty apartment. With nothing holding him to the city anymore aside from his business - which was well controlled in the hands of his top employees - Killian found himself packing a suitcase. He called a cab, and before he knew it, he was on a flight back to England, back to where everything had gone wrong the first time.

Brennan’s grave was just as he had left it, although the grass had grown a little higher. He’d only been there once before, after Liam had passed. Killian had been filled with anger then too, and had decided to hunt down their father and get his revenge for leaving them the way he had. Instead of finding the man in the flesh, he’d been pointed to a headstone. Whether his father’s body actually laid there or not, it was the closest thing Killian had.

He’d come the second time ready to rant and rave at his father again. To blame him for everything bad that had ever happened to him, but he was tired and broken. He couldn’t blame Brennan anymore. He couldn’t blame anyone, despite how much easier it would have been.

The trip had been a turning point for Killian. He’d finally come to accept his past, and learned that his future was in his hands alone. It was too late for him and Emma, but it wasn’t too late for him to become the man he wanted to be. He poured his heart into his business, ramping up production. His Swan would have been proud of him. 

Seven months passed. Seven grueling months in which Killian devoted himself entirely to his business, arriving before, and leaving after, the sun each day. Seven prideful months. He’d remained sober and celibate. He’d really turned himself around.

But then he’d been heading out to work one day just as Mary Margaret and David had been loading some luggage into David’s old beat up truck. David hadn’t said anything, but gave him and sympathetic look before finding his way into the driver’s seat. Mary Margaret had hesitated, unsure of how much to divulge, but he hadn’t needed her to say anything. It was Emma’s wedding weekend.

In two days, Emma would be married, with her happily ever after.

He’d held off as long as he could. But with no one to talk to, no one to help him through it, he gave in on the third day. It was a Saturday,  _ her _ wedding day, and he couldn’t hold on anymore. 

His apartment had been depleted of rum. After he’d come back from England, he’d chosen not to purchase any more, not wanting to face the temptation of it all. The furniture had been replaced little by little, but the apartment remained sparse. He felt too guilty to fill it, and with only him there, if felt a little pointless as well.

Without any libations in arms reach, Killian found himself at a pub down the street. After two hours there, without any food in his stomach to absorb the alcohol, Killian found himself being evicted from his seat for being entirely too intoxicated. He wasn’t ready to go home though, not to the apartment he’d shared with Emma, not when she was about to leave for her honeymoon with someone else. So he wandered around the block, to a new bar that had just moved into the neighborhood.

He flashed a few bills and was let past the ropes. Inside, it was complete chaos and he reveled in it, finding it appropriate given the current state of his life. Soon he was buying bottles for all of the girls that had flocked to his side, and falling back into his old ways had been far too easy.

Soon, he had two girls coming back to his apartment with him. They were both bleach blondes, probably far too young for him, but in his state he didn’t care. He just needed something to get him through the night. Something to help him forget.

Once inside his place, Killian turned on some music and told the girls to make themselves comfortable, while he made his way to his bathroom to make himself more presentable. In reality, he’d just needed a moment. It had been a while since he’d been with a woman, much less two and the idea felt almost foreign. 

Willing himself into it, Killian made his way into his bedroom, in search of some condoms. He hadn’t needed them, but he’d purchased some just in case his meeting with Emma had gone well. A spontaneous buy at a gas station on the way to Storybrooke. But as he rustled through the drawer, something silver caught his eye, and he’d been stupid enough to pick it up. Her pendant, taunting him once more.

He’d never be able to escape her.

All at once, the pain and hurt came barreling back, and Killian was pissed in every sense of the word. He’d marched back to the living room and nearly attacked one of the girls, fusing his mouth to hers. She’d had no complaints though, and soon enough, her friend had joined in. Tongues had tangled, hands had found their ways beneath clothing. One of the girls hands had found its way into his boxers, and she began to pump up and down, but no matter what she did, Killian was unable to get hard.

The girls had just assumed that it had been all of the alcohol, and that he wasn’t yet properly motivated, but Killian knew. It was Emma. Apparently his heart wasn’t the only thing that belonged to her. So instead of dragging the night out any further, he made an excuse about a work emergency and saw the girls to the door. 

He kissed them each goodbye, unsure of how else to end the evening. He wished them well and they were off. 

And then she was there in front of him, dressed in white lace, tear streaked eyes. She was a vision. And when he opened his mouth, the rum took over and his walls skyrocketed.

“Well, well,” he slurred out. “What do we have here?”

“Killian,” David tried to warn, but it fell on deaf ears.

“Running away again, Swan?” His eyes lingered on her dress. “Seems to be a pattern with you.”

He swiped his thumb across his lower lip and waved one last goodbye to the girls.

With a loud slap to the face, and tears in her eyes, Emma walked away.

The slap had stung, but it was nothing compare to the punch David gave him that knocked him on his ass.

“Before you say another word,” David growled out, “you should know that her fiance died this morning.”

Once again, he’d ruined everything.


	3. 3

 

Two days.

 

That’s how long it had taken him to summon the courage to knock on the door to David and Mary Margaret’s apartment. He’d listened to the traffic moving around in the hallway, hoping to ‘accidentally’ run into Emma so he could apologize. But Emma hadn’t emerged as far as he was aware. The guilt was gnawing at his gut though and he couldn’t wait any more.

 

The knock was light and timid, but it was enough to catch the attention of Mary Margaret. She cracked the door open just enough to see that it was him, before trying to step out into the hallway to meet him.

 

“Killian, now isn’t really a good time.”

 

She was shutting him out and he knew it. He couldn’t blame her though. She was only trying to protect her friend, a woman that still captivated every part of his soul.

 

“Please, I’ll only be a moment. I just want to apologize for my behavior. What I said, it was appalling and poor form.”

 

“I understand that, but I think it may be too soon. Maybe you could come back in a few days..”

 

Before she could finish the statement, a large crashing sound came from inside the apartment, and Killian didn’t hesitate to push past Mary Margaret into the room. The living room remained undisturbed, but he could hear faint sounds coming from the guest bedroom. Something between a strangled laughter and sobs.

 

“Killian,” Mary Margaret had called out from behind him, trying to stop him. “I’ve got this. Please just go home.”

 

Killian had no intention of leaving though. He’d been there before. He knew of the pain that came from a broken heart, from a lover’s death. He’d remembered the desire to give up, the feeling of wanting it all to be over. It was only through the support of David that he survived those first few weeks after Milah, and despite her protests, he knew Mary Margaret with her rose colored glasses wouldn’t be enough to pull Emma from the darkness surrounding her. Hope was all well and good, but not yet. First, Emma just had to survive the pain.

 

He wondered how she was fairing. If she was eating enough or starving herself. If she was curled up in a ball on the bed or laughing at fond memories with her friends in remembrance. He wondered a lot of things, but what greeted Killian was worse than anything he could have imagined.

 

He found himself grimacing at the smell as the door gave way to reveal Emma, still in her wedding dress, now stained with amber liquid. Shards of green grass surrounded her bare feet. She’d clearly not been cared for.

 

“Jesus Christ,” he’d muttered under his breath, anger coursing through his veins.

 

Emma started stumbling backwards, oblivious to his presence. Killian could only turn to Mary Margaret.

 

“What the hell is going on here?”

 

“We were giving her time, Killian. The same way we gave _you_ time and space when you needed it.”

 

“This isn’t giving her space!” He snarled out.

 

Without thinking, he scooped Emma up in his arms before she could step on any of the broken glass.

 

“Clean this up. I’ve got her.”

 

Mary Margaret didn’t say anything else as Killian carried Emma to the shared bathroom. He deposited her on the closed toilet seat next to the large clawfoot bathtub and began running the water, checking the temperature every few seconds until the water was warm enough. Once he was content that it wouldn’t scald her, he switched the shower on and moved to stand back to Emma, who was only slightly more lucid.

 

It was just enough though for her to recognize him, and for her own anger to reveal itself. She started yelling at him, but he paid her no attention, knowing all too well what rum could do to a person. She continued to yell and he lifted her into the running shower, dress and all, only pausing long enough to remove his own shoes before stepping in to join her. He stood before her as she told him that she hated him, that he was nothing to her. Her fists beat against his chest, but it wasn’t until he finally called her name that the last of her strength dwindled and she collapsed against him.

 

“Graham’s dead.”

 

It was barely a whisper.

 

“I know.”

 

She stayed, wrapped in his embrace until he felt the temperature of the water starting to cool. Slowly, he stepped back just enough to place some distance between them. Just enough that he could look her in the eyes again. His hands went behind her and slowly started undoing the buttons on the back of her dress, one by one. They never broke their gaze, not even when the dress finally slipped from her body revealing the white lace beneath the gown barely covering her form.

 

He couldn’t help but notice the irony. In another world, the lingerie would have been for him. He would have been removing the gown she’d worn for him. His hands would have unclasped her bra exposing her pert breasts. He would have taken them in his mouth as his hands traced down her ribs, his thumbs hooking into the band of her underwear, gliding it down her legs. His lips would have kissed their way down her stomach until he took her fully in his mouth.

 

But it wasn’t another world, and she wasn’t his. Not anymore. She belonged to someone else, and she was broken. Instead, he let his hands gently rest on her waist as he guided her back, letting the water cascade over her. Slowly, he pulled each pin from her hair, letting all of the curls fall over her shoulders. Once her hair was fully down, he massaged Mary Margaret’s shampoo into it, grieving the loss of the vanilla scent that was so innatly Emma. The apple scent on her was so foreign, so wrong.

 

As he washed the conditioner from her hair and turned off the shower, he turned back to grab a towel to wrap around her. Mary Margaret was standing in the doorway as well, subtly trying to keep an eye on her friend.

 

“Please go fetch her some dry clothes.”

 

His voice was much softer that time, and Mary Margaret only nodded before leaving the room. He wrapped Emma in the towel and grabbed another to help soak up the excess moisture from her hair.

 

When Mary Margaret returned with a bundle of clothes, Killian excused himself so they could change Emma’s undergarments in private. Once she was fully dressed, he returned and scooped her up once again. She was much lighter without the dress, lighter than he’d ever remembered and he worried for her once again.

 

The room had been cleaned. The glass shards swept up, air freshener sprayed, sheets changed. Killian peeled back the bedding and set Emma in the bed, tucking all of the sheets and blankets back around her. Her eyes were heavy and he could tell that she was only moments away from sleep.

 

“I’m all alone again.”

 

“Oh, Swan.” His hand moved to cover hers on instinct. “You’re not alone. You’ll never be alone. You’ve got Mary Margaret, and David.”

 

“And you?”

 

A small, sad smile found it’s way to his lips.

 

“Aye, and me. You’ll always have me.”

 

He waited until he knew she was asleep to leave, placing a kiss on her forehead as he turned to leave. As he reached the living room, he found his old friends having a whispered argument. He’d heard his name, and based on the way Mary Margaret stopped talking when she noticed him, was certain that he’d been the source of their discord.

 

“She’s asleep.”

 

It was all he said to either of the before slipping out of the apartment dripping wet still, shoes in hand. As he made his way back to his own apartment, it took all of his strength just to make it through the door before he allowed himself to collapse against the island. His back slide down and he let his arms rest on his knees, covering his face with his hands.

 

It was hard enough seeing his Swan in so much pain, but seeing her so wrecked over another man nearly killed him. His heart broke all over again knowing how easily she’d moved on from him, that she was the love of his life, but he wasn’t the love of hers.

 

There was a knock at the door, but he didn’t answer, willing the person on the other side to evaporate into thin air. It didn’t work though, and the person came in uninvited.

 

David.

 

“I, uh, just thought I should come see how you were doing.”

 

Killian let out a strangled laugh.

 

“Oh, I’m just bloody great, mate.”

 

“Killian-” David fumbled with his hands, searching for words. “I know I wasn’t a great friend when you needed me. I should have told you that Emma was leaving. I shouldn’t have picked a side in the breakup. I can’t take that back and I know it. But I promise you, I’m going to be there for Emma. I’m going to help her through this just like I helped you with Milah. She’s going to be okay.”

 

“You think she’s just going to bounce back from this with some home cooked meals?” Killian scoffed.

 

“I think it’s a start. Letting her know she’s not alone. That we’re all here for her.”

 

There was a long lull in the conversation. Long enough that David took it as his cue to leave. It wasn’t until after he heard the door click shut that he finally spoke again. But this time, it was in a whisper to the heavens. Praying for healing for Emma’s pure heart.

 

* * *

 

 

Two weeks had passed since Graham’s death. Two weeks in which Emma had over analysed every single thought that ran through her head. Her friend’s had been kind enough to let her stay at their apartment, and while their intentions had been good, they’d been overbearing. ‘Family meals’ with way too much food and conversation meant to distract Emma. They talked about the Boston PD and personal changes that Emma had missed, and Mary Margaret’s students. They talked about the dropping temperatures as summer gave way to winter.

 

They talked about anything and everything except for Graham and Killian. She’d seen him around the complex a few times since _that_ night, the night in which she finally broke down. Killian had a way of making her emotionally raw, and when he climbed into the shower with her, fully clothed and not giving a damn about himself, when she saw the look in his eyes, the walls she had reforged crumbled beneath his gaze.

 

She’d missed him. She’d known that since the minute she walked out of his life all that time ago, but the distance and separation had allowed herself to believe that she was over him. That she didn’t need or want him anymore. But as he held her in his arms, giving her comfort, she felt something that she hadn’t felt with Graham.

 

 _Home_.

 

And that thought, the realization that Kilian was still such an intrical part of her was terrifying. And the guilt that came along with it was overwhelming. Her fiance had just died, then man that was only minutes away from becoming her husband was gone. She had no business looking at Killian, wondering what she could have done differently. She was a horrible person.

 

The guilt was all she needed to rebuild her walls. She avoided Killian, exchanging nothing more than a few words of greeting in the hallway. He hadn’t been invited over to the apartment by any of them. David had mentioned that he had spent a few hours at Killian’s apartment watching a soccer game a few days before, but hadn’t brought him up otherwise, and Emma was thankful for it. She wasn’t ready to hear about his life. She wasn’t ready for whatever emotions where sure to become stirred up at knowing if his was single or taken, if he still got takeout from that little dinner down the street. If he ever thought of her.

 

He’d clearly not been celibate in her absence. Not that she’d expected him too. She knew what he was like before she met him. She knew what his pretty face did to women. But still, a small part of her had hoped that even after all of that time, that he may have pinned for her.

 

But two weeks had come and gone, and as much as Emma had avoided returning to Storybrooke, she could hold off any longer.

 

Graham’s funeral was a solemn affair. The entirety of Storybrooke and Glowerhaven had turned up to bid farewell to their fallen Sheriff. It spoke to the way Graham had endeared himself to everyone he’d ever met. He was beloved. They’re buried him in the Glowerhaven cemetery, a few plots over from his own parents. One by one, each person came up to Emma to express their sympathies over her losing the love of her life. She’d felt like such a fraud.

 

As the people started clearing out, Emma could have sworn she’d caught sight of raven hair and her heart clenched, but before she could move any closer to get a better look, she’d been called back by Mary Margaret.

 

After the burial, everyone close to Emma and Graham headed back to the house they’d once shared. Emma had to take a moment to brace herself before she could enter, knowing that his worn leather jacket would still likely be hanging by the door, just as it had been when she’d left for the wedding.

 

His scent was the first thing she noticed, and against her will, her eyes started welling up and she excused herself, running back outside needing some fresh air. Mary Margaret ran after her, but after some reassurance that she just needed a few minutes alone, her friend left to set up the food. Emma could hear people still talking inside. Her own deputy wondering when she was coming back to work.

 

It had been on her mind for most of the morning. She’d already taken time off for the honeymoon, so the past two weeks had been planned for in advance, but she’d been due back the following Monday. She’d hated the idea of going back so soon, not ready to face real life just yet, but she didn’t want to leave them in the lurch. And there had been the house to consider as well. The mortgage would still be due at the beginning of the month, and without Graham’s paycheck sharing the burden, she’d need to return to work.

 

David had suggested simply selling the home, and having her return to Boston full time. She’d almost been on board, but after seeing it again, after smelling the woodsy scent that was inherently Graham, she just wasn’t ready to part with it yet. He may not have been ‘the one’ but he was something to her. He was a best friend when she had no one else. He was a man that loved her above all else. And he deserved more than to become a discarded memory.

 

“Is this seat taken?”

 

Emma’s head snapped up at the voice. She hadn’t expected him. She hadn’t invited him even. How would she have even extended such an invitation? Yet there he was anyway.

 

She shook her head no, and Killian sat down on the swing next to her, leaving enough distances so that they weren’t touching. A true feat considering that Graham had built it specifically so that she’d have no choice but to cuddle up to him.

 

“I’d ask how you were doing, but I know first hand that would be a foolish question.”

 

“Well if you asked, I’d tell you it sucks.”

 

Killian had chuckled slightly, lightening the mood between them.

 

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

 

There was an earnestness in his eyes that Emma appreciated. He wasn’t just trying to make her feel better to ease his own heart as David and Mary Margaret sometimes did.

 

“Can you speed up time? Oh, say about twenty nine years until my mortgage is paid off.”

 

It had been meant as a joke, a horrible one granted, but just something to deflect from the emotional vulnerability she was feeling. But Killian had seen through her, just as he always did. Even after all of that time apart, he still understood her.

 

“So you’re keeping the house.” It wasn’t a question. “You’ve decided to stay here in Storybrooke.”

 

Emma took a deep breath, trying to formulate an answer that wouldn’t give away too much of her heart.

 

“I don’t really have a choice. I have the house here, my job. My entire life is here in Storybrooke.”

 

“And if it wasn’t?”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

Emma was about to get angry at the presumptuousness of the statement.

 

“Emma, I know what you’re going through. I’ve been there. I never really told you about Milah. I guess I was afraid that sharing her with you would mean that I’d given up the last little part of her that was just mine.”

 

Emma didn’t say anything. She didn’t know how to respond. He’d never actually said her name before. Aside from what little David had told her after she found the ring, the last she’d heard of her was during their first month of dating. Just that there had been a woman in his past that had broken his heart. She’d always assumed that the nameless woman had left him for someone else.

 

“Milah- after my brother died I had nothing. I went from menial job to menial job, wasting all of my time. I had no drive or purpose, and then one night out at a bar with the guys, I ran into Milah, and suddenly I felt alive again. I fell for her hard and fast, and she for I. She was the reason I started the business. She’d been a business major and knew contacts. She motivated me to do something with my life. I proposed to her and she said yes, and I thought that I’d never be happier. And then she died. A stroke brought on by an undiagnosed heart thing, and my world fell apart.”

 

Killian’s eyes shifted to meet Emma’s briefly, before returning to the potted plant on the ground.

 

“When she passed, that was it. I was done living, but through it all, I still had pieces of her, and that helped me make it through each day. I’d get some mail addressed to her, or a message on my machine from an old friend of hers wanting to catch up over drinks not realizing that she had passed. But slowly those things stopped coming, and all I had left was the apartment. I clung to it with everything I had, knowing that it was all that was left.”

 

Suddenly everything clicked for Emma. When she’d found out about Milah and the stupid furniture, she’d been livid and hurt. She’d felt betrayed. But she’d only seen it from her point of view. She’d only known that Killian wasn’t letting her into his life fully. But from the otherside, she finally understood. The idea of letting anyone into that house, of letting them change what she and Graham had built, even if it was Killian, sickened her. It felt dirty. The ultimate betrayal to Graham.

 

“I get it. And I’m sorry I didn’t let you explain, and that I just walked away like I did.”

 

“Swan, that’s not- I’m not trying to make you feel guilty. I’m just trying to explain that I’ve been through this, and I know what you’re feeling. That I’m here if you need someone to talk to.”

 

“I know. But I mean the apology all the same. I didn’t understand it before.”

 

Emma’s heart clutched for him. If she was this torn over Graham, a man she cared for deeply, than what would it have felt like for Killian? Milah was everything to him. Irreplaceable.

 

“What to you need, love?”

 

“I don’t know. Time? I just, everything is such a mess right now. Graham is everywhere. Here, work, everywhere I go. I see him everywhere and it’s overwhelming, and I just want to run away from it all. But at the same time, I can’t. I can’t just pretend like he wasn’t this huge part of my life. I can’t just let him go like that.

 

Killian nodded.

 

“I just don’t know what to do. I can’t face any of it yet.”

 

“So then don’t.”

 

“What?”

 

“You can’t let the house go, but you can’t live here right now either.”

 

“Exactly. But like I said, I don’t really have a choice.”

 

“Come live with me.”

 

Emma coughed, choking on air.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Her heart was hammering in her chest. For the briefest of moments, she’d been caught off guard by his offer. The idea that he still wanted her. But it was quickly replaced by disgust. It was too soon, and distasteful.

 

“I don’t mean in a romantic way.”

 

Her heart shouldn’t have dropped the way it did.

 

“I have an extra room. Come and stay with me. Take a leave of absence here and come back to the Boston PD. You wouldn’t have to pay me rent so you could easily pay your mortgage here and save up some money until you figure out what you wanted to do.”

 

“I don’t know Killian.

 

“Just think on it. I’ve spent years haunted by my ghosts. I know what a toll that can take on a person. I don’t want that for you.”

 

With that, Killian took his leave, getting in his truck and driving away, back to Boston. Emma stayed on the swing until she couldn’t see him anymore before heading back inside with the others.

 

* * *

 

 

Emma Swan had taken over his apartment, and the ghosts that he had wished to protect her from now haunted him as well. A portrait of Emma and Graham sat on the end table by the couch, watching over him nightly. He supposed it was his own penance to pay after torturing Emma for so many years, even inadvertently. His sparsely furnished place had become cozy and felt lived in for the first time since he had thrown out his original furniture. The irony not lost on him. Of losing Emma to keep Milah’s possessions, only to find Emma’s presence more homely than anything he’d ever own before. It was too late though. And even if he waited years for Emma to be ready for dating again, he’d already caused her more pain than she’d ever deserved.

 

All he could ever be for her now was a friend.

 

_And it killed him._

 

She kept strange hours. The Boston PD had been happy to have her back, but the only open positions had been for the night shift. She’d lost her seniority when she resigned, and it wouldn’t have been fair to bump another cop back to the night beat because of her. So instead, she’d come home at six in the morning just as he was getting ready to head out. Some days she’d bring home a pizza and he’d have dinner for breakfast, or he’d make her bacon and eggs and she’d have breakfast for dinner instead.

 

Every once in awhile their days off would align with each others, but she often choose to spend those day’s with Mary Margaret and David. Sometime David would show up with a pack of beer and they’d sit in front of the television watching a game or a random show. Killian never partook in the beer, afraid of what he might say or do if he let his inhibitions down. Instead he’d drink water and they’d avoid conversation that ventured into a personal nature.

 

Months went by and Killian and Emma were still little more than roommates. Passing ships in the night. At first he’d been irritated by their lack of a relationship, but then he’d come to realize that it had probably been for the best. His feelings for Emma were still just as strong as they’d been before, if not stronger, but she was still grieving for Graham. And Killian was still no good for Emma.

 

Hoping to distract his heart, he’d asked David to set him up on a blind date. There had been an awkward moment, when Emma had seen him dressed up. She’d asked where he was going so late in the evening as she was getting ready for work. Not wanting to lie, he told her that he had a date, and for just a brief moment, he’d thought he’d seen something in her eyes. Jealousy maybe, but it only lasted a second and he’d been sure that he’d only seen what he wanted to.

 

The date was a disaster. He’d spent the entire time thinking about Emma instead of the woman in front of him. The conversation had been dull, and when the waiter asked if either of them was in the mood for dessert, both had declined. It was clear to both of them that they weren’t a match, but it hadn’t stopped her from propositioning him to come back to her place. Killian had politely declined though, knowing that they had no future. Meaningless sex no longer held a thrill for him.

  


Sleep had been difficult to come by, and he woke the next morning well before the sun. Unable to control the nervous energy built up inside him from his brief encounter with Emma, and the way his heart had begun pounding harder as he thought of her, he decided to go into work early.

 

He arrived two hours before the rest of his staff and spend that time channeling all of his frustrations into a new design. He didn’t have any special orders on the docket, nothing new beyond orders for standard boats and ships, but he needed something to distract him. When his secretary arrived she made him a pot of coffee and together they dove into the busy day. A rescheduled meeting had gone well past his normal business hours, and by the time Killian arrived home, he’d already missed Emma for the day.

 

As far as he knew, she didn’t have work that night, but she was always either picking up extra shifts when guys needed a night off for a special occasion, or she was out doing something to keep her sleep schedule from fluctuating. Going out with work buddies or to the movies help her stay away late at night.

 

Not that he’d minded too much. He was absolutely exhausted and barely made it to his bed before passing out, still in his work clothes. But sometime around one in the morning, he was woken by the shrill sounding of his cell phone. He’d fumbled for it in the nightstand, nearly knocking it over.

 

“Hello?”

 

His voice was raspy from sleep and there was a lot of noise coming from the other end.

 

“Is this Killian Jones?” a man yelled out.

 

Killian pulled the phone back from his ear to look at it. Emma’s name was shown across the screen, but the voice on the other end was decidedly not Emma’s. Adrenaline immediately started flowing through his veins as he remembered the last time a stranger had called him from her phone. She’d been injured in the line of duty was was a the ER.

 

“Yes. This is he. Is Emma alright?”

 

Panic.

 

“Depends on how you look at it. She’s about three sheets to the wind right now and can’t remember her address for a cab. You were the emergency contact in her phone. Is there anyway you can come and get her?”

 

“Ya, of course. Where are you?”

 

Killian hopped in his truck and headed down straight for the bar across from the police station. The one she and her other colleges like to frequent for drinks. The White Rabbit had held some fond memories for him in the past. He’d met Emma’s friends there. It had been there that she’d referred to him as her boyfriend for the first time. It had also held some dark ones, as they’d often find themselves there having a memorial shot for a fallen college. But Killian hadn’t stepped foot in the place since Emma had left.

 

The inside was just as he remembered it. The wooden floors sticky with spilled liquor. The stale scent of smoke that remained embedded in the walls even though smoking had been banned years before. Even the bartender was the same. A fellow Englishman named Robin.

 

“Hey, mate,” Robin had called out upon catching sight of him. Killian shuffled through the crowded room until he made his way to the bar. Robin excused himself, leaving staff members to tend it in his absence.

 

“She’s this way in my office. I thought about calling someone from the station first instead of waking you in the middle of the night, but I didn’t want her to get in any trouble with her job.”

 

Killian was grateful for Robin’s foresight, but now that he’d had time to process and relax, he was just finally realizing that even after everything, Emma had chosen him as her emergency contact.

 

“Aye. Good thinking.”

 

Robin brought Killian down a long hallway he’d never seen before and opened up a door all the way at the end. Emma was passed out in a chair, leaning over, resting her head on the man’s desk.

 

Killian thought about trying to wake her, but settled on picking her up and carrying her out instead. The last time she’d been that drunk was right after Graham’s passing and she’d had a complete breakdown. While he couldn’t be sure what had spurned her into drinking so much that night, he was certain that she’d want to avoid an emotional display in front of her fellow cops.

 

Robin helped him take Emma out a back door to give them more privacy, but just before Killian left, he stopped him.

 

“Mate, I don’t know what’s going on, but she was pretty upset tonight. She kept mumbling that everything was ruined. Take care of her.”

 

Killian nodded an thanked him again. Luckily he’d parked around the side of the building so he didn’t have a long walk back to the vehicle, and no one had been around to witnesses Emma’s intoxication. He could only hope that anyone who’d seen her before he got there would have the decency not to mention the indiscretion. The drive back was uneventful. Emma had remained curled up in the passenger seat, sleeping through the entire trip. Once home, he scooped her back up into his arms and carried her inside. He’d barely tucked her into her own bed when she’d woke up, too sick to make it to the bathroom.

 

Unsure of how to precede given the current state of their relationship, Killian carried her to the bathroom and set her in front of the toilet. He left her there to tend to the mess, removing the soiled bedding, rushing it down to the laundry room. When he got back to the apartment, he went back to her dresser and grabbed some clean clothes and made his way back to the bathroom. Emma was still sick, and all he could do for her at that point was to hold her hair back and rub circles along her back. He wanted to do more, but he didn’t want to cross a line.

 

Instead he waited until she was done. He’d considered seeing if she wanted a shower, but he wasn’t sure that she be able to stand long enough, and the last thing he wanted was for her to slip and hit her head. And he knew that if he tried to help her shower, he’d do or say something stupid.

 

Luckily, her underwear had been more for function that looks as he undressed her that time, and less of her was on display. He helped her into a fresh t-shirt and a pair of shorts, grabbing a wet washcloth to clean her face off. Her bedding was still in the washer when they were done, so he took her to his room and began tucking her into his sheets.

 

Emma however, seemed to have other ideas. Even in her drunken stupor, she was strong, and when she sat up and grabbed onto the back of his head, fusing her lips to his, he’d had trouble pulling away. Not that it wouldn’t have been difficult anyways. He’d missed the feeling of her lips on his. The softness and warmth that came with one of her kisses. The lingering flavor of tequila on her tongue as she demanded he part his mouth for her. He missed the closeness they used to share in those intimate moments between them. No walls, no baggage. Just them, deeply in love.

 

But they weren’t there anymore, and Emma was too drunk to realize what she was doing. He wasn’t even sure if she understood who he was in that moment. So reluctantly he broke the contact, trying to create distance between them.

 

She’d chased his lips though, more forcefully than before, huffing when he stood from the bed, rebuffing her advances.

 

“We can’t do this right now.”

 

“But I need you.”

 

There had been a sadness in her voice as she said it.

“Emma, love. Have pity on me.”

 

“I’m trying to. You’re the one stopping us.”

 

“Swan. You’re drunk. Trust me, tomorrow you’ll be glad I stopped us.”

 

It took everything he had not to crawl back to her.

 

“Everything is ruined.” She whimpered as she fell back against the bed. “You’re really gone, aren’t you.”

 

And that was all of the proof he needed that she wasn’t in her right mind. She thought he was Graham, and he’d be damned if he took advantage of her.

 

“Sleep now, my love.”

 

He let the door click shut behind him as he heart shattered on the floor before him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Her head was pounding and the light was streaming into the room. As she peeled her eyes open, it immediately registered to her that she wasn’t in her own room and she’d panicked that she’d gone home with a stranger. She been so caught off guard hearing that Killian had a date that all she could do was school her features and pretend that she hadn’t just been crushed. Then she’d come home slightly early the next morning with a box of donuts, but he wasn’t home, and it had been clear to her that he’d stayed over at his date’s place.

 

It killed her that he was moving on, so after trying to sleep and failing miserably, Emma finally headed out, trying to find something to occupy her mind. One of her fellow cops had called, saying some of the old crowd was getting together at the White Rabbit to catch up, and she jumped at the chance to drown her sorrows with a drink or two.

 

One or two drinks though had turned into almost an entire bottle of tequila and the rest of the night became a blur. Yet somehow she’d left the bar and arrived somewhere. She could feel sheets against her legs and immediately knew she wasn’t in her clothes from the night before and panicked again.

 

It took her a few minutes of looking around to realize where she was though. The two ships in a bottle on the dresser should have been a dead giveaway, but it was the scent of the sea that really caught her up. She was in Killian’s room, and that had brought on a whole new sense of worry. He wasn’t there and the other pillow was cold. Had she slept with him? Had he immediately regretted it?

Not wanted to linger, she hopped out of the bed, making her head throb in the process. The apartment was empty, but she’d made note that there was a set of folded linens resting on the couch. It wasn’t much, but it meant they hadn’t had sex if Killian had slept on the couch, but she was still confused as to why she woke in his room instead of hers.

 

As she made her way back to the room, she found the bed made up, something she never did on her own, and her confusion only grew. Her head was still pounding though, so she decided that the mystery could wait until after she’d found the aspirin. Unfortunately, thanks to a rough tackle and sore shoulder three weeks before, she’d depleted her own stash. Looking at the clock, seeing that it was already midmorning and that Killian had left for work hours before, Emma made her way back to his room.

 

He’d always kept a bottle hidden away in his nightstand as a precaution. Something in easy reach after a night out. Hoping he wouldn’t mind her borrowing a few, she pulled the drawer open. There were no painkillers, but what she did find had her stopping in her tracks. A small black leather box. It was different from the last one she’d found, and her heart had lept into her throat. He’d had a date, and a ring. Had he been dating someone the entire time and just not wanted her to know?

 

Her instinct to flee kicked into overdrive. Emma ran back to her room and started throwing clothes into the two suitcases she kept in the closet. She was in such a panic state, she hadn’t even noticed that someone else had let themselves into the apartment.

 

“Swan?”

 

Emma turned, giving Killian a quick glance but immediately returned to her task.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

The truth was she didn’t know. She’d saved up some money. Not a lot, but enough to get her through a few months until she figured things out. Maybe she be able to go back to the house with Graham now.

 

“I don’t know. I just need to be anywhere but here.”

 

“I don’t understand. Why are you really leaving?”

 

“I can’t do this Killian. I just need to go.”

 

“So what?” She heard the anger rising in his voice. Something she hadn’t heard since the night she left. “You were just going to pick up and leave? Not even bothering to say goodbye this time?”

 

“Oh, I didn’t know I needed to run everything by you. It’s not like you have any secrets of your own!”

 

“What the bloody hell are you on about?”

 

Emma stomped passed him, grabbing the ring out of his nightstand, nearly throwing it at him as she returned to her packing.

 

“You went through my things?”

 

“No. I was looking for something for my headache and I stumbled across it.”

 

His jaw was clenching, something he only did when he was well and truly upset.

 

Instead of looking at him, for fear that her heart may just break beyond repair, she returned to her packing. When she looked up again, he was gone, and the ring was set on her bed.

 

“Emma, what happened? I could hear yelling all the way from my place.”

 

She could hear the shock in her friend’s voice, but it was nothing compared to her own shock.

 

“Did you know? Did you know this whole time?”

 

Emma had turned on her friend so fast, and even though there was only an inch in their height difference, in that moment, Emma towered over Mary Margaret.”

 

“Did I know what? Emma, I have no idea what’s going on.”

 

“Oh. So you had no idea that Killian was seeing someone? You had no idea that he bought a ring so he could propose to her?”

 

Emma could hear the mania in her voice, but she was powerless to stop it.

 

“What ring? Killian isn’t dating anyone.”

 

“How can you stand there and lie to me like that? I thought you were my _friend_!”

 

“I am, and it’s true. He’s not dating anyone.”

 

“Of course he is. He had a date with her two nights ago!”

 

“Emma, he’s-” Mary Margaret stopped abruptly. “What ring?”

 

Emma simply pointed at the box.

 

“Oh, Emma.”

 

Emma was ready to break, already feeling the stinging prick of tears in her eyes.

 

“You want to try telling me that he’s not with someone again?”

 

She closed the first suitcase and zipped it up with as much force as she could muster.

 

“Emma, stop.”

 

She never heard such force in Mary Margaret’s voice before, causing her to freeze.

 

“This ring. God. This is your ring.”

 

Emma scoffed.

 

“Sit down.” It was her teachers voice, but it still worked and Emma obeyed, sitting on the edge of her bed.

 

“Killian bought the ring for you, over a year ago. He was going to try to win you back, He even drove all the way up to Storybrooke, but he was too late and you’d literally just accepted Graham’s proposal.”

 

Emma felt the air rush from her lungs.

 

Slowly, she took the box from Mary Margaret’s hand and opened it, looking at the ring for the first time. It was simple but elegant. Completely different from the one he’d purchased for Milah. Without realizing it, Emma had lifted the ring from the box and began inspecting the band.

 

“There’s no engraving. He was in such a rush to get to you that he didn’t want to wait for that.”

 

God. She’d been such a fool.

 

“Were you really just going to run away again?”

 

“I-”

 

Emma could feel the shame building inside her. She shouldn’t have run the first time and she knew it. She may not have known it at the time, but she knew it now. Yet there she had been, refusing to learn from her past mistakes.

 

“So, now that you know, what are you going to do? Are you going to run like you always do, or are you going to fight for him?”

 

It was all she needed.

 

Emma quickly changed into some more appropriate clothes, shoved the ring back into her pocket and took off.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He couldn’t return to work. That was his safe place, and he knew that if he went there after witnessing Emma running again, that’s all he would ever associate it with. Every time he stepped through those doors, he’d see her suitcases, and he couldn’t lose the only thing he’d had left of his sanity.

 

Instead, he walked around Boston, aimlessly, until his feet ached. She’d have been gone by then, he knew it, and he’d probably never see her again. It was just as well. He shouldn’t have kept the ring. It was inviting trouble. It invited some odd since of hope that he had no use in clinging on to, and he knew the moment Emma had thrown it at him, that he’d screwed up everything.

 

She’d probably thought that he’d been just waiting, keeping up the nice guy act until he could swoop in and take advantage of her. She’d probably thought the worst of him, and he couldn’t even defend himself. He’d been too ashamed, too crushed to stay and explain. Rather than watch her leave again, he left first that time, leaving the ring with her. It was hers after all, and though it might never rest upon her finger, he couldn’t imagine it ever belonging to anyone else. When he’d found it, he knew it was hers. Simple, beautiful, one of a kind. Emma wouldn’t have wanted something over the top. And when Mary Margaret had suggested returning it for his money back, he’d laughed in her face.

 

He just hoped that it wasn’t still there taunting him when he got back. He wasn’t ready to return to the apartment, but his feet hurt too much to continue on, so when his summoned taxi arrived, all he could do was give the address for his office. Memories be damned. It was too late. He’d already see Emma everywhere for the rest of his life.

 

Surprisingly, when he got there, the side door to the warehouse was still unlocked. His staff had long since left it should have been locked hours before. He slipped in, cautious to make sure no one was wandering about the place. When he was certain that he was the only one there, he made his way to his office, resigned to a night of sleeping on his couch.

 

But when he opened the door, a mass of blonde revealed itself to him. She was looking at some sketches on his desk, the ones he’d done the morning before.

 

“You named her?”

 

“Aye.”

 

Killian had always been adamant that while his merchandise would have generic names for model numbers, he’d never ever name a boat that wasn’t his own possession. Said it was bad luck and that sailors were a superstitious lot. Somehow, in all the time he’d been in business, he’d never created something for himself, yet as he sketched out the design in his desk, he couldn’t help but scrawl ‘Swan’ in his flowery lettering across the back of the ship.

 

Emma stood, and Killian found himself rooted to his spot. He’d never expected to see her again, and had no idea what to say or do. He was worried that he’d just scare her off. When he didn’t move, she stepped out from behind the desk, making her way closer to him. She reached into her pocket, producing the ring he’d bought her and he swallowed thickly.

 

“No, keep it. It’s yours.”

 

She smiled at him sadly, but held the ring out to him, finally grabbing his hand. She released it into his and wrapped her hand around his, wrapping the ring firmly in his fist.

 

“Killian, I-” He could feel her fighting for the right words. “When I found that ring this morning, I made a leap and jumped to the wrong conclusion. You’d told me the other night that you had a date, and I just assumed that you’d already had found someone. That you’d kept her from me to protect my feelings.”

 

“Swan-”

 

“No, I know now that I was wrong. But at the time, I felt like I was dying inside. The thought of you with anyone else, proposing to someone else, it brought up all of my old insecurities. I thought that I was the problem, that I wasn’t good enough.”

 

His heart ached for her, knowing how she must have felt so long ago after she’d learned of Milah. She couldn’t have been further from the truth though. He’d held her at arms length because she’d come to mean so much more to him. That had Milah been alive, if he’d been forced to choose for some reason, that he’d have chosen Emma. And it was that guilt that kept him from giving himself to her fully. His free hand came up to cup Emma’s cheek.

 

“I panicked, and I ran, because that’s what I’ve always done. But I’m tired of running, because all it’s ever done is make things worse. I know I’ve probably ruined everything, and that you probably don’t see me that way anymore anyways, but I want you to keep the ring. And if in the future, you still want to give it to me, I promise you that my answer will be yes. If not-”

 

Killian cut her off, unwilling to let her doubt her place in his heart any longer. The kiss was searing, containing everything they’d felt for one another but had been too afraid to express.

 

“Is now too soon?”

 

Emma furrowed her brow in confusion, but Killian had waited long enough. He should have bloody well done it years ago. Slowly he sank onto one knee, holding the ring up. There had been a speech planed once upon a time, rehearsed over and over on the drive up to Storybrooke, but it wasn’t right anymore. Instead, he told her that he couldn’t promise her forever, because with her, it still wouldn’t be enough. He told her how he’d only thought he’d understood love before, but with her he had everything. He told her that he’d wait for her as long as she needed. And when she said yes, it was tears in her eyes.

 

The went back to that shared apartment and celebrated their renewed relationship. And in the morning, they’d texted Mary Margaret and David to meet them at the courthouse, giving no explanation until they’d arrive. Emma and Killian had waited long enough though, wasted too much time and didn't want to lose another precious second. So when their friends arrived, they were all ushered into a small courtroom where a justice of the peace pronounced them man and wife.

 

Years went by, Emma sold the house, Killian sold the apartment. They purchased a new apartment together. Then the children came and they’d had to upgrade to a larger townhouse. But through it all, they always had each other. Their bond was all the much stronger for everything they’d endured, finally truly understanding what the other had been through.

 

On their tenth anniversary, Killian had managed to sneak Emma’s ring away while she was doing dishes. She’d been beside herself thinking that she’d lost it down the sink. But then one night as they readied themselves for bed, Killian dropped down in his knee again, and presented it to her once more, but this time, it had a small engraving. An infinity sign, because forever would still never be enough.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy ending is coming next time. I promise.


End file.
